CFC's first Iron Pen Competitors have now finished their stories and are eagerly awaiting your comments and the outcome of the voting!
Please welcome the competitors for this challenge: Iron Pen Lady Wombat and Iron Pen Shagranoz, who have both submitted entries incorporating the mystery theme CLOUDS.
Why that theme? I was pondering what secret ingredient to offer up for the challenge and happened to glance out the window. It was a moderately nice day outside, with a rather interesting-looking cloud in the sky. So this was truly a random choice.
When offering comments, I ask that you keep in mind that the main objective of Iron Pen is to give the writers constructive feedback on their stories. Please say why you liked or didn't like the stories. What changes would you suggest, if any? If you were writing a story on this theme, would you have done so similarly to the way the two current competitors have, or would you take another approach entirely?
Judging:
When judging, you may wish to consider these criteria, among any other personal preferences you might have:
Length. Did the story meet the minimum required length? Did it exceed the maximum length? This requirement is meant partially as a way to keep the competition fair, as it's harder to judge fairly if one story is (for example) 2000 words and the other only 500 words. Length doesn't always mean better. Also, if a writer wants to submit stories professionally, there will be length restrictions involved in that. It never hurts to start practicing writing to meet specified requirements.
Mechanics. This is a presentation criterion. A story that is good in terms of plot, characters, and theme may have typos, formatting errors, etc. which can distract the reader. No matter if the story is written for recreation or for professional submission, proofreading matters.
Characterization: Do you think the characters are believable? Has the author succeeded in making the reader care what happens to them?
Secret Theme: Do you think the author used the theme effectively?
Entertainment: This is the major criterion. The main goal of any story is to entertain the reader and provide an interesting reading experience. Do you think the author succeeded in doing this?
Voting:
Please note: The polls are multiple-choice. They are anonymous. You are asked to vote for TWO choices - once for Iron Pen Lady Wombat and once for Iron Pen Shagranoz. You will be voting for a score out of 5, where 1 is the lowest and 5 is the highest. Please do not vote more than twice, as that would result in unbalanced (and unfair) votes.
And now, on with the stories!
Si lived on the mountain top. She carried water from the nearby spring to her cottage every day and cut logs for firewood. The mountain was five thousand meters high and air was very fresh. She kept yaks for food and to transport materials back and forth from her cottage.
Si wasnt born there, but she felt during her youth that she should make a home for herself in one of the mountains. It didnt matter what language people spoke or what country the mountains would be located in. The mountain people are like ethnicity of its own.
She settled down after she had gotten a visa and permits to live there. Strangely enough, the authorities didnt rule out the possibility for her to live there forever. However, there was a simple rule Si as a foreigner, has to forget the ways of past and assimilate.
Si had a mindset to die there. As funny as it may sound, the idea of living to old age and dying where nobody would weep for you seemed appealing. Si understood that this wont be possible, despite leaving modern civilization behind.
The first year was the hardest. Nobody respected a woman. Although the good thing was, since she was whitey, the natives didnt kill her or rape her, because that would be against their rules. Nobody asked why she was here. It was a surprise how apathetic the local tribe was towards her, ignoring her for the first months when she was within audibility radius.
Si was persistent in her journey to die there. She could fail only if the tribe informed authorities that she is making them uneasy, but it seemed that to them she was just another being who didnt attack and couldnt be useful in any way. Like spiders which live even in higher altitudes.
Change is violence, but if she wanted to be a part of the tribe, she had to prove herself. She isnt a huge spider, whitey which walks among the rocks like a ghost. She built a house, she kept the yaks which she had bought and she tried to smile. Smiling is universal.
She named her yaks White lotus and Blue orchid due to their fur colors. She started to learn the local language when she arrived in the country. It didnt help much people dont talk, they feel there. The good thing was that in the mountain top there is only one season all year long spring.
Si had a lot of things to forget and much less to learn. Simplicity and ease how the tribe lived made her think that she doesnt understand life at all. The tribe called the mountain top in which Si lived a Cloudy nest. The name was given due to bird species which lived there.
That was her quest, to comprehend life and die happy. A life is when a baby is born, death is when elder dies. Its an honor to die of old age, the tribes elder said. Elders never die; their spirits live with the tribe forever.
She had to become an elder of her own tribe, but she couldnt, she was too young.
I couldnt help looking at the Florida sky. Even though the latest projection from the weather service had Hurricane Anthony a good day and a half away from making landfall, I swore that the thick white clouds were part of the storm.
Alex, you got the clothes packed already, right?
Yes, dear. Theyve been packed since yesterday. Weve also got toiletries and plenty of cash for whatever emergencies come up. Other emergencies, I mean.
Normally, St. Augustine isnt a sleepy little town, its downright comatose. I mean, theres a reason central Florida is synonymous with nursing homes. These obviously werent normal times, though. Every house on every street was a hive of activity, assuming its occupants hadnt already left. I knew of exactly one family who was going to try to ride it out. When you live here, you dont take chances with hurricanes.
Hey, Alex. Thought youd already left. It was Joe Martinez, my next-door neighbor and one of the nicest guys youll ever meet.
Emily and I plan to be on the road within an hour. Shes got family in Atlanta, so thats where were going. It shouldnt be that bad up there, and if the storm surge reaches that far inland, well, the winds will be the least of our worries.
True. Listen, Alex. I need a favor. The tailgate on my Jeeps busted. Itll open, but someone needs to hold it up or itll come down like a mousetrap. Ive only got a few things left to put in, so it wont take more than a couple of minutes.
Fine by me. Emilys got a few last-minute things she needs to take care of herself, so Im just waiting.
I went over to the battered Jeep and lifted the tailgate. Jeez, Joe. You could have told me that you hung some scrap metal on this thing.
Joe hefted a duffel bag into the cargo space. Great. The other side must be going too.
Think it might be time to finally retire the old girl? I asked.
Part of me says yes, he responded. On the other hand, though, all that time I put into this thing, I want to ride it until the wheels fall off. Its the same thing with that house. First time Ive ever been forced to leave it. Ive been through a dozen different hurricanes. How many have you been in?
Not that many, I had to admit.
Its not the walls or the floors. The physical things can always be replaced. Its the memories you make with them that matter. All those nights with my wife, before she passed, they happened right there. Thats why Im coming back to this place, no matter whats left. Even if theres just a concrete pad, Ill build it right back up.
All right, Im done packing. You can let it go now. My muscles were only too happy to oblige.
Just then, I heard Emily call out, Im all set on this end. How about you?
Im ready if you are. Shall we be off?
As we got into the car, my mind was still stuck on what Joe had said about coming back. It felt a little premature at this early juncture, but I had to agree with the guy. We all have our problems. The storm clouds come, and sometimes, they seem like theyll go on forever. But yet, when all is said and done, we pick up the pieces as best we can and just go on with our lives. After all, the storm clouds cant stick around forever, can they?
Please welcome the competitors for this challenge: Iron Pen Lady Wombat and Iron Pen Shagranoz, who have both submitted entries incorporating the mystery theme CLOUDS.
Why that theme? I was pondering what secret ingredient to offer up for the challenge and happened to glance out the window. It was a moderately nice day outside, with a rather interesting-looking cloud in the sky. So this was truly a random choice.
When offering comments, I ask that you keep in mind that the main objective of Iron Pen is to give the writers constructive feedback on their stories. Please say why you liked or didn't like the stories. What changes would you suggest, if any? If you were writing a story on this theme, would you have done so similarly to the way the two current competitors have, or would you take another approach entirely?
Judging:
When judging, you may wish to consider these criteria, among any other personal preferences you might have:
Length. Did the story meet the minimum required length? Did it exceed the maximum length? This requirement is meant partially as a way to keep the competition fair, as it's harder to judge fairly if one story is (for example) 2000 words and the other only 500 words. Length doesn't always mean better. Also, if a writer wants to submit stories professionally, there will be length restrictions involved in that. It never hurts to start practicing writing to meet specified requirements.
Mechanics. This is a presentation criterion. A story that is good in terms of plot, characters, and theme may have typos, formatting errors, etc. which can distract the reader. No matter if the story is written for recreation or for professional submission, proofreading matters.
Characterization: Do you think the characters are believable? Has the author succeeded in making the reader care what happens to them?
Secret Theme: Do you think the author used the theme effectively?
Entertainment: This is the major criterion. The main goal of any story is to entertain the reader and provide an interesting reading experience. Do you think the author succeeded in doing this?
Voting:
Please note: The polls are multiple-choice. They are anonymous. You are asked to vote for TWO choices - once for Iron Pen Lady Wombat and once for Iron Pen Shagranoz. You will be voting for a score out of 5, where 1 is the lowest and 5 is the highest. Please do not vote more than twice, as that would result in unbalanced (and unfair) votes.
And now, on with the stories!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Fragile
by Iron Pen Lady Wombat
Fragile
by Iron Pen Lady Wombat
Si lived on the mountain top. She carried water from the nearby spring to her cottage every day and cut logs for firewood. The mountain was five thousand meters high and air was very fresh. She kept yaks for food and to transport materials back and forth from her cottage.
Si wasnt born there, but she felt during her youth that she should make a home for herself in one of the mountains. It didnt matter what language people spoke or what country the mountains would be located in. The mountain people are like ethnicity of its own.
She settled down after she had gotten a visa and permits to live there. Strangely enough, the authorities didnt rule out the possibility for her to live there forever. However, there was a simple rule Si as a foreigner, has to forget the ways of past and assimilate.
Si had a mindset to die there. As funny as it may sound, the idea of living to old age and dying where nobody would weep for you seemed appealing. Si understood that this wont be possible, despite leaving modern civilization behind.
The first year was the hardest. Nobody respected a woman. Although the good thing was, since she was whitey, the natives didnt kill her or rape her, because that would be against their rules. Nobody asked why she was here. It was a surprise how apathetic the local tribe was towards her, ignoring her for the first months when she was within audibility radius.
Si was persistent in her journey to die there. She could fail only if the tribe informed authorities that she is making them uneasy, but it seemed that to them she was just another being who didnt attack and couldnt be useful in any way. Like spiders which live even in higher altitudes.
Change is violence, but if she wanted to be a part of the tribe, she had to prove herself. She isnt a huge spider, whitey which walks among the rocks like a ghost. She built a house, she kept the yaks which she had bought and she tried to smile. Smiling is universal.
She named her yaks White lotus and Blue orchid due to their fur colors. She started to learn the local language when she arrived in the country. It didnt help much people dont talk, they feel there. The good thing was that in the mountain top there is only one season all year long spring.
Si had a lot of things to forget and much less to learn. Simplicity and ease how the tribe lived made her think that she doesnt understand life at all. The tribe called the mountain top in which Si lived a Cloudy nest. The name was given due to bird species which lived there.
That was her quest, to comprehend life and die happy. A life is when a baby is born, death is when elder dies. Its an honor to die of old age, the tribes elder said. Elders never die; their spirits live with the tribe forever.
She had to become an elder of her own tribe, but she couldnt, she was too young.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A Storm on the Horizon
by Iron Pen Shagranoz
A Storm on the Horizon
by Iron Pen Shagranoz
I couldnt help looking at the Florida sky. Even though the latest projection from the weather service had Hurricane Anthony a good day and a half away from making landfall, I swore that the thick white clouds were part of the storm.
Alex, you got the clothes packed already, right?
Yes, dear. Theyve been packed since yesterday. Weve also got toiletries and plenty of cash for whatever emergencies come up. Other emergencies, I mean.
Normally, St. Augustine isnt a sleepy little town, its downright comatose. I mean, theres a reason central Florida is synonymous with nursing homes. These obviously werent normal times, though. Every house on every street was a hive of activity, assuming its occupants hadnt already left. I knew of exactly one family who was going to try to ride it out. When you live here, you dont take chances with hurricanes.
Hey, Alex. Thought youd already left. It was Joe Martinez, my next-door neighbor and one of the nicest guys youll ever meet.
Emily and I plan to be on the road within an hour. Shes got family in Atlanta, so thats where were going. It shouldnt be that bad up there, and if the storm surge reaches that far inland, well, the winds will be the least of our worries.
True. Listen, Alex. I need a favor. The tailgate on my Jeeps busted. Itll open, but someone needs to hold it up or itll come down like a mousetrap. Ive only got a few things left to put in, so it wont take more than a couple of minutes.
Fine by me. Emilys got a few last-minute things she needs to take care of herself, so Im just waiting.
I went over to the battered Jeep and lifted the tailgate. Jeez, Joe. You could have told me that you hung some scrap metal on this thing.
Joe hefted a duffel bag into the cargo space. Great. The other side must be going too.
Think it might be time to finally retire the old girl? I asked.
Part of me says yes, he responded. On the other hand, though, all that time I put into this thing, I want to ride it until the wheels fall off. Its the same thing with that house. First time Ive ever been forced to leave it. Ive been through a dozen different hurricanes. How many have you been in?
Not that many, I had to admit.
Its not the walls or the floors. The physical things can always be replaced. Its the memories you make with them that matter. All those nights with my wife, before she passed, they happened right there. Thats why Im coming back to this place, no matter whats left. Even if theres just a concrete pad, Ill build it right back up.
All right, Im done packing. You can let it go now. My muscles were only too happy to oblige.
Just then, I heard Emily call out, Im all set on this end. How about you?
Im ready if you are. Shall we be off?
As we got into the car, my mind was still stuck on what Joe had said about coming back. It felt a little premature at this early juncture, but I had to agree with the guy. We all have our problems. The storm clouds come, and sometimes, they seem like theyll go on forever. But yet, when all is said and done, we pick up the pieces as best we can and just go on with our lives. After all, the storm clouds cant stick around forever, can they?
